Condescending, out-of-touch critics and mallrat haters, get a clue: 16-year-old Skye Sweetnam isn't emulating fellow Canadian Avril Lavigne – she's so totally mocking her! So stop with all the "faux punk" accusations and enjoy Noise from the Basement as the brilliant introduction to today's premier pop-punk satirist. On her excellent debut, Sweetnam takes cues from the Josie and the Pussycats soundtrack and Melissa Lefton's subversive Melicious, lampooning teenage angst so effectively that it's easy to initially miss the wink in lyrics like "Daddy, daddy, no! / I don't wanna go to school!" Indeed, songs like "Billy S." and "It Sucks" boast such huge, head-spinning hooks that they ultimately work as both spoofs and the real deal.

Which only goes to show that you shouldn't underestimate someone whose first album is the best D.I.Y. teen-pop album, like, ever. Recorded almost entirely in a friend's basement and coproduced and cowritten by Sweetnam, Noise proves you don't need the Matrix to make such should-be hits as "Sharada," "I Don't Care," and raised-lighter ballad "Fallen Through." In fact, aside from the tragic cover of Blondie's "Heart of Glass," there's nary a dud in earshot thanks to Sweetnam's sharp wit. Just check "Hypocrite," wherein she lists all the disses aimed her way – "ultra brat," "Avril lite," etc. – only to turn them into a fist-pumping pop anthem that, like all of Noise, runs circles around Lavigne's latest album. (Jimmy Draper)

Moodymann
Black Mahogani (Mahogani/Peacefrog)

Detroit's Kenny Dixon Jr. keeps his cards close to his vest. Even his collaborator Amp Fiddler knew him only as Kenny Dixon before he finally released a record they'd worked on together, which was labeled with the name Moodymann. But no matter how much Dixon avoids the spotlight, the sheer brilliance of his subtly shaded, jazz-tinged house music demands attention.

Black Mahogani is really a compilation of Dixon's vinyl releases, but given the 12-inches' scarcity, much of it will be new to all but the most dedicated devotees (except the smooth glory of "I'm Doing Fine," which continues to move dance floors two years after its release). At the same time, due to skillful programming and the elliptical nature of Dixon's tracks, the album never feels like a collection of singles. Instead, we're treated to an hour in a smoky Detroit lounge, where voices murmur plans about getting out, couples move their flirting to the dance floor, and the continuation of jazz and funk coalesces around a 4/4 kick drum. Feel the intimate croon of Roberta Sweed on the relaxed 11 minutes of "Runaway," or the empty-hall echo of Norma Jean Bell's sax on "Roberta Jean Machine." Dixon's genius for production is revealed in a laid-back touch that lets locked-down grooves realize their potential. A Moodymann song rarely fits the "build, peak, release" formula that makes so much house music deadly boring. Dixon opens the door to a room, introduces the characters (a swinging high hat, some hypnotic keys, a vaguely menacing synth) and lets them tell a story. This freewheeling narrative is why, when Dixon use samples from blaxploitation movies like Superfly and Detroit 9000, he's able to play them for laughs but simultaneously feed off their no-way-out bitterness. Black Mahogani is gritty electronic soul, equal parts mystery, movement, and melancholy. And it's goddamn beautiful. (Peter Nicholson)

Steve Earle
The Revolution Starts Now (E-Squared)

In 2004 it's hard to actually feel like music once mattered as much as it did. The art of the songwriter sometimes gets lost in a culture where people don't have the time of day to give a CD a real good listen. The same problems John Kerry experiences in trying to offer nuanced, intelligent arguments in the face of Republican stay-on-message and hammer-it-home media tactics seem to face thoughtful artists who hope to paint real portraits of real people in a medium that's suffering in a world of commercial music placement in car ads and a youth culture that plays video games, thinks of rock 'n' roll as, at best, the indie-cool flavor of the month and, at worst, as American Idol dreck.

So leave it to the inimitable Steve Earle to damn the torpedoes and release perhaps the most political album of his career into the American cultural abyss.

After a much-publicized rehab and short stint in prison, the re-energized Virginia-born, Texas-raised Nashville outsider roared back to form with three great albums in three years (Train a Comin', I Feel Alright, and El Corazon, all on Warner Bros.). But for his last couple of releases (Jerusalem and Transcendental Blues, both on Artemis), Earle has floundered slightly. Though he maintained his prolific streak, and despite the notoriety of "John Walker's Blues" (a song with the sympathetic POV of John Walker Lindh that was demonized by everyone from Clear Channel to the New York Post), the songwriting didn't always hold up and the albums had flat moments.

The Revolution Starts Now marks something of a return to form. A series of mostly politically themed songs timed to come out before the election (hardly Toby Keith, Earle leans pretty far left, if you haven't guessed), the CD starts with the one-two-three knockout punch of the title track, "Home to Houston," and "Rich Man's War." The songwriter espouses personal politicization, tells the tale of a hapless Texas trucker working in Iraq and the story of combatants on both sides of the conflict, and is immediately rocking, as funny as hell, and touching. Paeans to our beloved national security advisor ("Condi, Condi" – one can only hope she's actually heard it and blushed) and third-generation marines, and the album's soulful highlight, "Coming Around" (with Emmylou Harris), make this Earle's best recording since 1997.

Most of the songs on Revolution were written the day before they were recorded, pretty much live in the studio. The energy this process brings to the recording is palpable, and it's hammered home in the skillful hands of Earle and his partner, Ray Kennedy (known together as the Twangtrust), who have perfected the art of putting music to tape in a way that sounds like Rubber Soul on designer steroids. Barry Bonds would approve.

In short, if the malaise of the election season is bringing your lefty ass down, and you're looking for some high-octane country-fueled rock 'n' roll to lift your spirits in a thoughtful, humorous fashion, replete with social consciousness and defiant '60s-bred idealism, then The Revolution Starts Now. (Victor Krummenacher)

Geraint Watkins
Dial 'W' for Watkins (Yep Roc)

Nick Lowe's 2001 release, The Convincer (Yep Roc), was a stunning slice of neo-soul – moody, understated, and the finest of his career. One of his collaborators on that project was keyboardist Geraint Watkins – who, it turns out, is a bit of a singer-songwriter himself. Chances are you've never heard his soft, sandpaper voice or even heard his name, but once you do, he'll be hard to forget, as his brand-new Dial 'W' for Watkins shares much of the same smooth, Memphis-cool mood as Lowe's masterpiece (with a little New Orleans sass tossed in and flipped around a bit).

Dial 'W' is actually the third solo release for Watkins, who emerged from the '70s British pub-rock scene in the manner of guys like Lowe and Dave Edmunds. Watkins has since spent much time as a session man, playing keyboards and accordion with some pretty heavy cats, from John Martyn and Rory Gallagher to Van Morrison and Paul McCartney. Watkins played on Lowe's recent downtempo, R&B-flavored trilogy (The Impossible Bird and Dig My Mood, both on Upstart, and The Convincer), and if Dial 'W' has a similar vibe, it's no wonder, since for the most part it's basically the same band: Watkins, Lowe, guitarist Steve Donnelly, and drummer Robert Trehern. Songs such as "I Will" and "Two Rocks" are sparse and low-key, though not everything is quiet and still; "Turn That Chicken Down" and "Heroes and Villains" are looser and country-ragged, allowing Watkins's penchant for uptempo R&B and good-time Louisiana music to surface. All told, the album's a solid, unflashy, finely crafted beauty – and it'll hopefully bring the underrated Watkins some overdue attention stateside. (Kurt Wolff)

Steve Earle, Geraint Watkins, and Nick Lowe play Sat/2, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, Golden Gate Park, S.F. (festival runs Fri/1-Sun/3). www.strictlybluegrass.com. Watkins plays with Lowe Thurs/30, Great American Music Hall, S.F. (415) 885-0750.